Haunted
by Kinoryo
Summary: Ginny Weasley had been in love with Harry Potter, but when Harry died she thought that he was gone forever. But is he? His presence lingers and torments her from the inside out, or is she just insane? Either way, Ginny Weasley is haunted. OneShot


_Everywhere_

By: Kinoryo

They say that I'm crazy. I'm not crazy, no. I've just been having a rough time since you've been gone. It came as quite a shock to me to see you lying there, dead. I thought the heroes weren't supposed to die. The hero is always supposed to get the girl. Why couldn't it have worked out that way? Why couldn't I have been your girl? God knows I wanted to be.

When I saw you fall to the ground, limp and lifeless, I knew my life would never be the same. I tried to get to you, I did. I struggled against Ron's arms to get to you. Ron, the fool, why'd he try to stop me! I could have saved you, I'm sure. By the time I broke free it was too late. You were dead, well nearly. You were beyond the capability of speech. I had to watch your eyes grow dead, the little light flickering out. Curses were flying everywhere but I knelt by your side. There was no way I was leaving you now, not when you needed me most. I tried to save you, even though I knew you were beyond my reach. What a terrible night. Dumbledore, Lupin, Hagrid, Ron, Hermione: they were all scattered about the battlefield dead. You were dead too, that was all I cared about. In some ways I died that night too.

They told me to get on with my life. Yeah, right. Ok, you're brother, your friends, respected adults, and not to mention the boy you loved just kicked the bucket, but you should just shrug it off and resume your regular routine. I'm sorry, but that's ridiculous. I didn't know what to do once they had gone. I went home to Mum, George, and Charlie: my only remaining relatives at this point. Even home was depressing. You can't walk into a room and not think about the dead persons who once stood there. Mum couldn't look at George because it was now just him, no Fred. I couldn't look at him either, actually. I couldn't bear to look at anyone. I spent most of my time lying on my bed, curled up in fetal position, crying. I got to the point where I was beyond tears around day three.

I saw you in my dreams. You were there: you spoke to me. We went for walks around the lake, you held my hand and whispered sweet nothings into my ear. Once we were married and we had a daughter, Emily. She had your eyes. I dreamed of all the things that would never be, the things that I wanted the most, that I **still** want the most.

_Turn it inside out so I can see_

_The part of you that's drifting over me_

_And when I wake you're never there_

_But when I sleep you're everywhere_

_You're everywhere_

Often would I see these sweet things and be taunted by them. They mocked my misery. When I would awake I would weep as the shock of reality hit me.

At first the dreams would be temporary peace for me, but then the dreams were beginning to wander out of my sleep. I would hear you walking around the garden: hear your footsteps on the stairs. I would feel your breath on the back of my neck, here your voice whispering that you loved me when there was no one there. Although I don't admit to being crazy now, I do confess to have temporarily lost my sanity then. Grief plays tricks on the mind.

_Just tell me how I got this far_

_Just tell me why you're here and who you are_

_'Cause every time I look_

_You're never there_

_And every time I sleep_

_You're always there_

Those few weeks that I was back at home were torture: so torturous that I tried to drown myself in the lake in the woods. I would have succeeded had it not been for Charlie. Stupid Charlie and his ignorance: allowing me to go on in this living hell. After that my Mother sent me to St. Mungo's.

They put me in a room with a straight jacket. I had two roommates: Jordan Spruell and Patricia Tarter. Jordan sat on his bed all day, slapping at the "hands" that poked him, when really there was nothing there. Patricia didn't speak at all. She lay on her bed, her eyes rolling back and forth in rapid motions and mumbling to herself in an unidentifiable language.

A man, like a muggle psychiatrist, would give me daily visits. He would talk to me in a fake, honey-sweet voice. It was clear he thought I was crazy. I wanted to punch him, cut him: do something to wipe that "understanding" smile off his face when he didn't understand at all.

I tired to escape a couple times. It almost worked once: I stole the wand out of the stupid man's pocket, right out from under his nose. When I was younger I would have laughed at my triumph, but I'd moved beyond laughter by then. I made it all the way to the doorway when I was hit from behind. It was a cheap shot. Anyway, I was caught again.

Being in St. Mungo's did not quell the dreams and the voices. In fact, I think that it spurred them on. When the lights would go out, it would become unbearably quiet. When you can neither hear nor see, there is nothing to distract your mind from focusing on the very worst possible things. I cried my self to sleep many nights.

They say that your mind is what controls your body. In many ways, this is true for me. My mind became my worst enemy, and how do you fight something in your head? It was always in control. I was always so acutely aware of it as I would lie there in my hospital bed.

Still you would visit me. I would lie there in bed and feel as though I was not truly alone. I would hear your leg brush against the sheets and your fingers gently touch my hair, but when I opened my eyes you could not be seen. I grew frightened.

_'Cause you're everywhere to me_

_And when I close my eyes it's you I see_

_You're everything I know_

_That makes me believe_

I'm not alone 

_I'm not alone_

Mum and George would visit me every Tuesday. Charlie came once, but I screamed and yelled at him to leave and never come back and he never did. After all, it was his fault I was stuck in this place. Mum and George tried to be helpful and bring things that they thought would bring me joy. They did not.

After a while of pretending to be "normal" they released me from St. Mungo's, only so long as I stayed with my mother for the next six months. I didn't care. I had won: they couldn't hold me. The truth is, the nightmares only intensified. Only they grew stranger. Once I dreamt you and I went for a stroll out in the garden and you picked a flower for me. I awoke in the morning with a gardenia in my hand.

I began to think, maybe these aren't dreams, and you're really with me. Whenever I would sense you lurking in the corner I would turn as fast as I could to try to get a glimpse of you. Why were you messing with my mind this way? Were you trying to drive me insane? I became determined to find you. What if you weren't dead? Something in my bones told me that you were alive. Maybe it was just the fact that I was and am so in love with you, that pushed me to search for hope: even thought I held you in my arms as you drew your last.

I would take five showers a day, trying to wash away the tears. There's something soothing about hot water rushing over the body that relaxes me. Mom probably thought I would try to drown myself, that's why she'd had it installed and the tub taken away. That made me laugh: almost.

_I recognize the way you make me feel_

_It's hard to think that_

_You might not be real_

_I sense it now, the water's getting deep_

_I try to wash the pain away from me_

Away from me 

My six months at home went by rather slowly, but at the end my mother was not able to keep me in the house any longer. I headed to London and bought a flat. I got a job at a muggle grocery store, the only kind of job that wouldn't know about my stay at St. Mungo's.

That's where I met Weston. He was another cashier about my age, maybe a little older. He had a huge crush on me right from the start. I don't think you liked that very much either. I, however, had taken an oath to get past everything and try to live a normal life. So I asked him over for dinner.

I was more aware of your presence that night than I had since the beginning. You didn't like him much. I knew it was you who knocked over that candle in front of him. He blamed it on the wind blowing in from the window, but I knew. It was also then that I knew that I would never be rid of you.

Over the next couple of weeks I tried to go on dates with Weston, be a normal nineteen year old, but you couldn't have that. You tried to sabotage us. I could feel your hatred for him growing. It was almost nice to think that you cared so much, but also very scary. I was afraid of your power. If only you would have gone away.

You had never been so violent when you were alive. Actually, no, this isn't true. The **old** you was not violent. After sixth year you began to spiral into hate and darkness of your own creation and you pushed me away. I wanted so much to be of some support to you.

Weston's little "accidents", like the candle incident, grew in intensity. If I hadn't deflected that falling tree branch with a spell in the park (completely covert, Weston was a muggle now), it would have taken his head off. I knew that I must break up with him.

We were coming back from a movie. We were on the highway and I was going to try to break it to him while we were stuck in traffic. I turned to him, but the people in front of us began to move. I turned to look out the window to recollect my thoughts, but was blinded by a pair of headlights. I threw my arms up over my face and screamed and I remembered no more.

I woke up lying on my back. You were standing over me, a smile on your face. You stretched out your hand and helped me to my feet. Standing next to you were Ron and Hermione. The two of them rushed forward to embrace me. I smiled, happy to hold my brother and my best friend in my arms again. Then you came forward.

You traced my jaw-line with your fingers. I could actually feel them against my skin. You smiled and said, "Welcome home, Gin." I smiled and replied, "Glad to be home, Harry." And then you kissed me and the rest is history.

_And when I touch your hand_

_It's then I understand_

_The beauty that's within_

_It's now that we begin_

_You always light my way_

_I hope there never comes a day_

_No matter where I go_

_I always feel you so_

_'Cause you're everywhere to me_

_And when I close my eyes it's you I see_

_You're everything I know_

_that makes me believe_

_I'm not alone_

The End 


End file.
